


A pinch of salt

by kangeiko



Category: Alias
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-22
Updated: 2006-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set pre-series, based on something said in <span class="u">In Dreams</span>. Jack has some questions. He also has a knife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A pinch of salt

Like throwing salt over your left shoulder, you keep a sharp knife tucked into your clothing at all times.

It keeps the devil away.

_It'll save your life some day,_ your _papi_ said when he first took a blade to it and, having skinned it to a whisker's thinness, folded it up carefully in its cracked hilt and tucked it into your shirt pocket.

It is a light thing, and you have kept it in many places over the years: shirts, trousers, even inside your shoe. It is fitting that such a small, thin blade, almost dwarfed by its cracked onyx hilt, should be so dangerous. _There ain't nothing more dangerous than a well-balanced knife, hijo. A thin sliver of metal can cut a man's throat more quickly and more easily than a great big heavy axe; that not so, Maria?_ Your elder sister smiled and ruffled your hair as she walked past, arms full of wet clothes. A thin naked blade swung gently at her hip, tempting those foolish enough to step too close as she hung out the family's washing.

There are many things you have done that you are not proud of. You have killed many men with this blade (this is not one of them). You have wiped the blood on their children's clothes and sent them squealing into the arms of their weeping mothers (no, nor this). You keep lists in your head, should you ever have the misfortune to find a priest. Perhaps the _padre_ would be able to bless your sins away before his death.

This morning, you woke and reached for your blade (it is not there). _It'll save your life some day,_ your _papi_ said (it is not there). The ropes are thick, but the blade is sharp; it will deal with them in time (it is not there it is not there).

(Where is it?)

You can still hear the _snickt_ of blades connecting, wearing down to a whisker's deadly thinness, as a tall, dark-haired young man steps forward into the light. He reaches down and strokes your face gently (where is it?).

(Where is it?)

In this light, he looks younger than you.

"You are going to tell me everything I want to know," he says. His voice is low and slow and certain, and he is almost smiling when he taps a naked blade against his teeth.

(Ah.)

You close your eyes against the spray of blood.

*


End file.
